


A Myth or a Legend?

by UselessReptileWrites



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, death mention, mentions of food and eating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-05-31 12:59:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15119903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UselessReptileWrites/pseuds/UselessReptileWrites
Summary: Eret, Son of Eret, has lived a bizarre life so far. He's worked for an aspiring tyrant that controlled a behemoth of a dragon that dominated other dragons' wills. He's seen every dragon, wrangled every dragon. He's been to lands you couldn't even dream of.He's about to realize there's a person that challenges his suspension of disbelief.





	A Myth or a Legend?

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for the 2016 HTTYD Week prompt "Of Legends and Vikings." Hiccup's done a lot of things people unfamiliar with him might not believe, right?

The first time Eret heard one of the stories the villagers of Berk told about Hiccup he didn’t pay much attention. He believed it was true-after all, he’d seen Hiccup come flying into his wrecked fort on a Night Fury, of all dragons, and fly on his own wings-but that didn’t mean the tale wasn’t slightly exaggerated. It didn’t take long for Eret to figure out he was a bit of a hero to the Berkians.

As he heard more stories about Hiccup, either told to children or mentioned in passing by Berkians to other Berkians or to him, Eret didn’t know what to think. Was it really possible for someone to survive lightning strikes, jumping off cliffs about a hundred times, and fighting the leader of a band of speedstingers?

Apparently, it was. 

The stories did have some truth to them, Eret mentally argued. He’d gotten a good enough impression of Hiccup to prove that he was a trouble-seeker. Generally, the boy signaled the coming of chaos and frantic energy and goofy smiles that would sweep you up like a storm at sea and leave you gaping in its wake, not sure if it had even happened. 

_But shooting down a Night Fury!_  his more skeptical side replied. Apparently, this was all the argument it needed to cast doubt over the entire subject. 

The issue could be easily resolved; Hiccup always seemed willing to talk with anyone on the island. In fact, he always went out of his way to make sure Eret was settling in and making sure no one was giving him a hard time.

Not that anyone really was. The Berkians had shown him hospitality that hadn’t been shown in his first encounters with people beside Hiccup and Astrid. In those first few moments between him, Stoick, Astrid, Hiccup, and the others in the group Hiccup hung around with, he’d been shoved (by the face), clubbed over the head, pinned under a dragon, and left in the middle of an ocean in a half-wrecked ship and sent on his way to Drago, who would deal poorly with all the meddling this village did, and Eret’s inability to stop them. 

Now, though, the Berkians were treating him and his sailors with claps on the back and offers to join them for a meal, drink, or tale. It was almost like he never was a dragon trapper. He supposed riding in on baby Scuttleclaws during the village’s darkest hour alongside Berk’s greatest heroes helped polish up the reputation a little bit.

He didn’t really want to push his luck, though. Hiccup was always running around with his bottom eyelids dark as if bruised, and while he would be glad to answer any questions Eret didn’t want to take advantage of that when he was clearly tired and grieving. And he figured anyone else would easily remember just what he did to dragons like they rode if they suspected that he accused them of making up the stories about their chief and young hero. 

So who did that leave, then?

* * *

The answer came to him while helping to fix the last few houses in the village.

Eret instinctively ducked as he heard the rush of leathery wings and the gust accompanying something large and flying. A flash of red and green later, Snotlout, Ruffnut, and Tuffnut were flying past the roof Eret was helping repair. Apparently, being in the middle of repairing the village and readying themselves for a possible return from Drago didn’t stop the dragon racing games. 

“You okay?” 

Eret blinked as there was another rush of wind and Astrid, on Stormfly’s back, hovered by him.

“Fine, thanks.” Eret rubbed his lower back; he hated how it ached. He wasn’t old enough for that. He was barely in his twenties, last he checked.

“I’ll have a word with them about how low they fly.” Astrid shook her head. 

Eret nodded and mumbled something between “you don’t have to do that on my account” and “thank every god that I can think of that you’re doing something about those three” as he went to get back to work fixing a shingle in place. 

Astrid didn’t immediately steer her dragon back up to rejoin the race, if she’d even been in it to begin with. To Eret, the rules seemed a little loose and unpredictable, as if everyone was making them up as they went along. Yet the whole thing, despite its chaos, seemed fluid and relatively argument-free, as if everyone was on the same page about each rule change. It boggled Eret’s mind. Half of him wanted to see if Skullcrusher was up to the challenge of figuring the whole mess out. The other still wondered if that was pushing hospitality a little too far. He knew they were boundaries, but he felt like they were drawn somewhere he wouldn’t see until he’d passed them by a mile and been surrounded by angry frowns and bared weapons. 

Instead, she leaped off Stormfly’s saddle and landed on the roof with the slightest of vibrations. The Deadly Nadder squawked and flew away in a couple wingbeats. 

“Aren’t you going to catch up with them?” Eret asked. 

Astrid shook her head. “Nah, I was just passing by, not racing.” She bit her lip and swept her braid over her shoulder. “Though perhaps next round I should. It’s been too long since Stormfly and I got a good workout.”

Eret hummed. Perhaps he should take Skullcrusher in that race. Beyond a few exploratory laps around the island to make sure he didn’t fall off the dragon, he was often too busy helping rebuild Berk to go on a proper flight with the Rumblehorn, and Hiccup wasn’t the only one who’d lost a loved one in Stoick. 

“You do know that you can take a break, right?” Astrid asked, her head tilted to one side. “We’re not going to work you death here.” 

Eret shrugged, as much to reply as to loosen up his shoulders. “Just thought I’d keep myself busy.” 

Astrid nodded. “Well, you’re going to take a break for lunch with us today.” She punched his shoulder and ignored his wince. “Make sure you’re at the Great Hall at midday.” 

She jumped off the roof, and a moment later Stormfly was gliding toward the nearly repaired stadium with her rider back in place. 

Eret sighed and stretched his neck. It looked like he was having a break forced upon him, though better that then trapping dragons for a tyrant.

* * *

The Great Hall was one of the few structures that escaped from Drago’s attack mostly unscathed, probably because most of it was carved into the large mountain that defined Berk’s profile from the sea. The outer facade had taken some damage, but not really that much. 

Therefore, it had become shelter to those whose homes were damaged or destroyed and meeting center to all the villagers whenever they weren’t working on repairs or watching dragon races. Though most repairs had taken place, there were quite a few Vikings who still preferred meeting there, so it was more mobbed than usual from what Eret heard. 

Finding Astrid and the others was no problem; they found him the moment he entered the door. Hiccup called him over to an empty spot at the table, a plate of food already there. 

He slid onto the seat and tried to ignoring the twins, who sat across the table from him. They were well into a shoving match where the goal seemed to be to knock each other off the bench. The others seemed to be ignoring that too, so it seemed that happened fairly frequently. Eret had to admire how Snotlout could pointedly ignore it when he was on the twins' side. 

Snotlout and Fishlegs seemed a little more civil, though they still looked tense. Still, Eret was glad he was sandwiched in between Hiccup and Fishlegs rather than between Fishlegs and Snotlout. 

It was a lunch full of small talk and everyone pointedly ignoring or interrupting the twins’ wrestling matches. Or maybe it'd been the same one. Eret wasn't paying attention. Astrid suggested that Eret should join the next dragon race and Hiccup said it’d be a good idea. Eret shrugged and said he’d consider it. Astrid told Hiccup he and Toothless should join in, too, but Hiccup said they were both too busy, but maybe next time.

The topic turned to some of the wilder things that happened during dragon races, which led to quite a few people bragging about their own personal accomplishments during them. 

Hiccup remained strangely silent through most of it. Given he'd chattered more than a caged bird during the few times he and Eret had gotten to speak, it set off some alarm bells. Eret supposed that was still because of the whole tired and grieving thing. 

“You should’ve seen this one time when the sheep launcher broke,” Tuffnut said. “Man, that sheep went so high, you could barely see it from the ground. But Barf and Belch flew straight up and caught it anyways.” 

“That’s not how it happened!” Ruffnut said. “It hit you in the face and you screamed like a mouse someone stepped on. And then Hiccup caught it at the last minute.” 

“Lucky Night Furies are so fast,” Fishlegs said. He was sitting up straight now, his eyes twinkling with excitement. 

Hiccup shrugged. “We were in the right place at the right time.” 

“Like you saved Astrid when we were fighting the Red Death, right?” Ruffnut asked. Her eyebrow was raised at Hiccup, as if she was daring him to contradict her. 

“And when Snotlout made Astrid fall off Stormfly?” Tuffnut asked. He, too, looked skeptical.

“I didn’t!” Snotlout said, crossing his arms across his chest and half turning from Tuffnut.

Hiccup tilted his head as he took a sip from his mug. “Eh, Toothless is a pretty fast dragon. We wouldn’t have been able to save her if he hadn’t been fast.” 

“The Red Death, huh?” Eret asked. He’d heard that story before. “Doesn’t sound anything like I’d want to meet.” 

“The Bewilderbeast was larger, and worse,” Hiccup replied.

Astrid sighed and shook her head. “But you and Toothless were much better at flying and fighting together.” 

Hiccup shrugged and gave a slight dip of his head. “Okay, but-”

“And most of us fell off our dragons.”

“We didn’t,” Ruffnut said, with the air of someone needing to set the record straight. “And we’re usually the screw-ups.” 

“Most of us.” Astrid turned back to Hiccup. 

“I’ve been hearing a lot about that,” Eret said. He considered what to reply with; certainly not that he heard Hiccup shot Toothless’s tail off. He went with a safer route. “They said you built Toothless a fake tailfin?” 

Hiccup dug the heel of his palm against the ridge of his eye socket. “Yep. Has Gobber been exaggerating everything a bit?” 

Eret shrugged. “Hard to say.”

“Well, if he said anything about Thor or Odin or whoever coming down from the sky, or hammerhead whales and yaks, it’s probably safe to say it isn’t true,” Hiccup said. He sounded tired.

“He also said that Thor struck you down.” Eret shrugged. This seemed unbelievable enough.

“That’s actually true.” Snotlout nodded to himself.

“What, really?” He looked at Hiccup and tried to imagine the kid getting hit by lightning. The concept now seemed more worrying than unbelievable; did this boy attract danger wherever he went?

“I was holding a metal rod at the time,” Hiccup said. He explained that Thor seemed to hate metal and how he had to demonstrate to a desperate village that Toothless wasn’t to blame for a series of bad lightning storms striking village houses. 

Eret listened to each of the teens in turn mention different unbelievable things-flying into a Typhoomerang’s fire, going toe to toe with the Berserker Chief  and an equally furious Skrill, and he and Toothless going on the Reaper alone and surviving. All the while, Hiccup tried to downplay the danger and the unusual nature of the events. 

Since Astrid wasn’t supporting Hiccup, Eret guessed the boy was too modest to be a reliable storyteller. He’d probably say shooting down a Night Fury was doable by anyone with a slingshot. 

After a short time, though, Hiccup stood up and dusted off the leather armor/flight suit of his. “I must be off. Chiefing to do, Night Furies to feed.” He waved and was out the giant doors. 

With that, everyone else seemed to remember things to do as well, until he and Astrid were the only ones left, preparing to leave. 

“Sounds like you guys never get bored,” Eret said as he stood up, feeling several vertebrae pop. 

“Nope.” She shrugged, but looked somewhat troubled.

_She’s probably worried he’s going to get himself killed,_  he thought. That was understandable; he’d only known the kid and Berk’s chief for under a few months and  _he_  was concerned, let alone someone who’d probably known him their entire life.

“Don’t worry,” Eret said. “If he can walk away from Drago, there’s nothing that can touch him.” 

That only made Astrid seem more concerned, so he said his farewells and left before he could do any more damage.

_There’s only so much they can walk away from before the gods’ favor gives out,_  Eret realized as he gazed over the remains of the village. He himself had thought it had given out, right before the ice he’d been sealed in shattered and revealed a furious Night Fury sheltering Hiccup like a baby dragon. 

_Well, never let it be said that Eret, Son of Eret, is a liar._  If he had been the best dragon wrangler alive, how much harder was it to make sure Hiccup and his friends survived?

**Author's Note:**

> As always, constructive feedback is welcomed!


End file.
